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| Monching and I. The writer enjoys playing football with his 2 year old | kid. |
My life changed with a birth.
It was not an instant. The test came right through when my first child was born. With great keenness and diminutively anxious, these feelings were almost soaked through my knees undermining my consciousness, when I first had my eyes met with this little angel. Suddenly, the world had stopped and changed in a split second.
At the outset of my first encounter with my precious little thing, I initially thought of great things, joyful moments, and that entire positive aura that came across my psyche. The atmosphere was filled with bliss. His eyes, there’s no doubt that he had mine. His lips, the softest I’ve ever touched and those pair of eyebrows which had turn out to be astonishingly as those that her mum’s exquisite eyebrows. Besides, whatever he may look like, he’s my son. As far as going to be a father is concerned, I can only confer upon him the greatest love and affection a father could give to his child.
Time had come into pass, the tide had its turn to become so much faster as it gets. Days rolled over and I could not accept as true that I had been a father for quite sometime. As far as I can tell, if someone have ever become a father, I assume the strangest and strongest sensation of life will be hearing for the first instance the lean cry of the child. For a second, I had this bizarre emotion of being twofold.
But there was rather, further somewhat impossible to analyze- probably the resonance in a man’s heart of all the sensations felt by all fathers and mothers at a similar moment in the history. It is a very kindhearted, but also a very indistinct feeling. For to have my child all wrap up in my arms, I’ve always felt that the good Lord has given me the best present a man could ever obtain in his possession.
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| FRIES. French fries is symbol of bonding between me and my son. |
There are occasions when he would scramble into my lap and coil into the crook of my left upper limb, and then I would cuddle him in return. I couldn’t move about that arm, but I could cradle him in it. I could kiss the top of his head. And I could have no reservation that those were one of the sweetest moments of my existence. I cannot exactly remember the first time he called me Daddy, but that didn’t matter because what was material was how he let the word spoken out from his gentle lips; a charming song to my ears, a shot through my heart, a food to my soul.
Being a father was not as simple as it gets. I had to reflect in the stillness of the night what possessions I could leave to my child when I depart from him. Almost certainly, he shall become heir to those desirable qualities I may impart to him while he grows old. Because one day, my child will be all grown up and I will mean to take off my mask to carry on where I left off. I may have lost twenty years or so, maybe thin on top, as my child tower over me and thump me on the head, however it maybe, I’ll be the proudest man for I became the best father of my own, a master of my offspring, a grand champion in the art of loving.
In the hours of darkness while my world is in solitude with my child, I would transform into a fantasist. I would think of him as a brilliant lawyer (in case I will fail the bar exams) like Jake Brigance in the novel A Time to Kill by John Grisham firing his finest argument in the highest court or perhaps a vibrant community leader like Nelson Mandela who transformed the Africas in many ways. At the very least, I would still end up shrugging my shoulders off and realize that my child should choose the path he needs to take, by his own, with my guidance.
I may never become the next President or never make it to Pilipinas Got Talent, may never read all Harry Potter novels or see an original painting by Leonardo. I was born unfortunate and, in spite of working hard all my life, I may always be meager, though, I will be swollen with pride, self-taught, and will leave no amount overdue which may torment my child’s name later on. If I had any concealed imaginings, further than of being a fine man, a dedicated father, and a fond husband, no one will eternally know about them. If profound misgivings, reservations, or personal qualms will distress me, I’ll never state them, by choice and being a father.
A single object is for sure, I have constantly sought that my child will be sensitive that years of having acknowledged and respected as a father have transformed me from Daddy, the straightforward human being, into Daddy the almost saint. At the end of the day, my child ought to arrive into the conclusion that there was nothing wrong with the way I brought him up.
In other words, whatever it takes to be a father, one has to be self-assured enough that his child will become as he wish he could be. Let a child learn how he wishes he want to. At the very least, he must test the waters by himself so that on his own and at the end of the day, he would surface with pride, proud of being self- taught of the things he needed to know. If in the future my child may fail, I must stand ground to defeat any obstruction that may arrive so that he may come for a reason to effectuate my fervent prayers and wishes for him.
I may not be the greatest father of all time however, one thing is for sure: I would take whatever it takes to be a father.
